


The Deeper the Grief

by biswholocked



Series: JWP 2016 [10]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Aftermath of a Case, Angst, Child Death, Divorce, F/M, Gen, Lestrade-centric, POV Lestrade, Questioning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-10
Updated: 2016-07-10
Packaged: 2018-07-22 19:00:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 261
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7450471
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/biswholocked/pseuds/biswholocked
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They all have those cases that stay with them, make them question everything. This is one of Lestrade's.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Deeper the Grief

**Author's Note:**

> Written for day ten of JWP. Today's prompt was: A higher power: choose a deity from any mythos, religion, or mythology (Tiamat, Zeus, Cthulu, whoever) and use them as an inspiration.
> 
> Apologies for the heavy angst. A personal headcanon I just came up with while writing this: before HOB, this case happens, and the Lestrade signs the divorce papers. He goes on holiday, then HOB happens, and then it connects to [A Soul Compelled to Look Upward](http://archiveofourown.org/works/7430569). May even write that connection in at some point.

A child had died, because Greg hadn’t gotten there in time to save him. John Winter’s limp body was floating in the bathtub when they broke down the bathroom door, his stepmother’s raving about evil still audible from downstairs.

“He wasn’t natural!” Mrs Winter screamed as she was shoved in the backseat of a panda car. “It was unholy!”

Hours of paperwork later, Greg’s finally able to leave the Yard. The cold bites at his skin, and he pulls up the collar of his coat against the wind as he walks. He waits for the crosswalk light, bouncing on his feet, then hurries across the street to the carpark. He finds his car, and gets in.

Everything quiets. The rush of traffic outside is muted; his ears ring slightly. The emotions he’s pushed down to do his job come up to the surface, and Greg runs a hand down his face. 

“He was just a child,” he whispers hoarsely. “Just a  _ child _ .”

Helen’s likely at home, divorce papers sitting on the dining room table, but all Greg can think about is John’s little body, his hair spread out in the water, his eyes wide open.

“Why?” Greg asks, tears pricking at the corners of his eyes. Why a child? Why Greg? Why does God - if they exist - allow such things to happen?

“Just tell me why,” he begs.

Greg waits. There is no answer. After a long moment, he wipes the tear tracks from his face with a heavy breath. He puts on his seatbelt, and starts the car.

Helen’s waiting.

**Author's Note:**

> Comments always welcome and appreciated!


End file.
